Wait and See
by Semby
Summary: Buffy hears about the events of NFA and is determined to find out what happened. BA.


Title: Wait and See

Summary: Buffy hears about the events of NFA and is determined to find out what happened.

Disclaimer: I'm not associated with the makers of Btvs and Ats; I'm not making any profit.

Note: This was written for the Angel ficathon at livejournal; the request was post-NFA B/A, with Dawn and Spike, some angst but a hopeful, if not happy, ending.

Buffy was on a week-long retreat to train a group of new slayers. These took place all over the world and were usually run by the new Watchers for the slayers local to that area, but slayers came from all over to participate in Buffy's in Italy and Faith's in Cleveland, simply because of their reputations. Buffy's retreat took place in a campsite far from any major towns and cities in the Italian countryside and consisted of learning new fight techniques, some meditation and tai chi, and much to Buffy's disappointment, she also had to teach them some slayer lore and demon history. The campsite was fairly public but they could be easily mistaken for some sort of martial arts group to any others who might have chosen to stay there during the week.

It was three days into the retreat when Buffy came across a group of people who had just arrived from the nearest city and set up camp nearby. They were talking about the news they'd seen on the television right before they left the city about a disaster that had occurred in Los Angeles. They were speaking Italian and even with the translation help from a couple of slayers - one who spoke Italian fluently and very little English and a French girl who spoke English well and knew a little Italian - she couldn't get anyone to tell her what the cause of the disaster was – or how bad the effects were.

That night she went to bed on the hard ground of her cold tent and the instant she fell asleep, she found herself dreaming of the night Angel nearly drank her dry. All over again and with intense clarity, she felt herself falling to the floor with his weight on top of her. She was pinned to the ground by his body – not that she had any desire to move. She recalled the exact feel of his cool fangs sinking into the skin of her neck, the sensations of near ecstasy, and the feeling that he could kill her at any moment and she would go happily. But at the end of the dream, he didn't stop to find her motionless beneath him as he had in reality and in his own dreams and nightmares so many times over the years. In her dream, she felt him stop and go motionless above her. She took all the strength she had left to shove him off of her and onto his back, where she could see that the wound on his chest had expanded; it was taking over his entire body. Her blood hadn't saved him; he was dying anyway. She watched helplessly as the wound kept growing, disfiguring him down out of her view below the waist of his pants and up over his neck to his face before he deteriorated away into nothingness, slower than she'd ever seen a vampire turn to dust. Even as she reached for him, trying to hold him together, her fingers passed through where there was no longer solid flesh. He was gone.

She woke up cold, hours before sunrise, and by the time the other girls emerged from their tents she'd loaded up her rental car with her things. She needed to get to civilization. She needed a phone, a television, a plane, anything. She kept on her strong leader face as she informed the slayers that she had to leave them for crucial business but that they were expected to carry on with their training and she'd be sending someone else to look over them and bring them back. Her strong and commanding persona didn't last long once she was alone in the car, however, and she had to pull over several times along the way to wipe her eyes and breathe until she could see well enough to drive again.

xxxxx

Dawn looked up with concern as her sister charged into the apartment.

"All lines of communication in LA have broken down. Giles is looking into it, but no one knows anything and there's nothing we can do but wait and see what we hear," she explained quickly before Buffy could say anything, already knowing what would be on her mind and having prepared what to say hours before.

"Nobody knows _anything_?" Buffy asked incredulously. "How long do we have to wait? How are we supposed to…? I haven't seen any of the news. What did it look like?"

Dawn looked away. "It was bad."

"How do they even have footage if there's no communications? How did they even know something was going on if they don't know anything?"

"They've had helicopters, but it's not safe for the helicopters to land or for anyone to drive in, because there's so much fire and so many holes…" Dawn looked as if she was replaying the things she'd seen on the news in her head, and she no longer looked as calm as she had pretended to be for her sister's benefit when she first arrived. "And buildings are still collapsing. They're building up rescue teams… it's only been about a day and a half."

Buffy walked over to the television and grabbed the remote. "I have to see." She shakily pushed the 'on' button, and watched as the screen filled with the horrific images of a city she used to live in, a city that still contained at least one person she wasn't sure she was ready to lose, looking like the apocalypse had hit – an apocalypse that made all her experiences with that word seem unbearably small. She suddenly doubted her strength, her ability to fight whatever the world might throw at her. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to fight whatever created those burning ruins, and she was afraid to hope that Angel might have been able to.

She continued watching the looping footage for hours, until long after Dawn had gone to sleep or the time she normally would have turned in herself. When she finally turned it off in the early morning hours, it had been announced that a rescue team and fire fighters were ready to move in, and they had some hope for survivors. Even knowing that all lines were out in LA, she couldn't help herself from picking up the phone on the way to her bedroom and dialing the number she had memorized long ago but never used. As expected, she only received a series of beeps on the other end. There wasn't even a recording to inform her, "This number is unavailable."

That night she had another dream. In this one she was at the 'disaster site', which was how people were now referring to LA. It was no longer a city with a name; it was an incident. In her dream it didn't look like the Los Angeles she remembered, or even the flaming terrors she'd seen on the news. It looked like the pit that Sunnydale had become a year before. She peered into its depths and saw Spike, way down, burning as he had that day that he wore the amulet. She then heard a closer noise from below and looked down to see Angel climbing out of the crater right beneath her. She jumped back in surprise.

He clumsily and painfully pulled himself out fully and rose to a standing position. She could see raw wounds covering his body and much of his face. His eyes met hers, and with an agonizing expression on his face, he whispered, as if he couldn't believe he was seeing her, "Buffy?"

He reached out an arm towards her, and in his position, with the pained look on his face, he looked exactly the same as he had the night she shoved a sword through his middle and sent him to Hell. From deep inside the pit of the disaster site, Spike's glow suddenly shot out, growing beyond the crater until it swallowed everything in its path, stopping only a few feet in front of her. When the light faded, Angel was gone again, and there was nothing to be seen in the darkness of the huge, gaping fissure that would indicate that either Spike or Angel was down there.

xxxxx

The next day when Dawn woke up, she found her sister repacking her rucksack from the slayer training excursion.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Are you going somewhere?"

"What do you think?" Buffy asked as she continued vigorously packing enough clothing for at least a few days.

"You can't go to LA!" Dawn argued.

"Why not?"

Dawn threw up her hands in frustration. "Because! Because there's nothing you can do. The rescue teams are just getting in there, and they'll do what they can. It's dangerous, and… and, Buffy? If they're alive, they'll contact us when they can."

Buffy hiked her fully-packed bag onto her back and turned to her sister defiantly. "You won't talk me out of this one, Dawnie."

Dawn stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. The two sisters were staring each other down, and after another moment, Dawn sighed and moved out of her defensive position. "Please don't get hurt, and please let me know the moment you find them."

"I will," Buffy responded and stepped forward to give her a hug, which was awkward with her huge backpack. As she headed to the door of the apartment, she said, "I'm going to trust you alone this time because I don't have any other options on short notice, but I want you to call Giles at least once every day. I'll let him know that if he doesn't hear from you he has to come straight here to make sure you're okay, so don't forget."

"Okay," Dawn answered. She walked outside with her sister and watched as she got into a cab that had been waiting for her. Dawn continued to watch until the cab was out of view, and then whispered, "Good luck."

xxxxx

Buffy stepped into the main entrance of the Hyperion Hotel warily. Half the building was gone, collapsed into ruins, but her instincts had driven her to the building and she was both eager and afraid to see what she'd find inside.

She'd arrived in San Diego the evening before; no flights were permitted to land in the LA area. She'd stayed the night there in a cheap motel, and went to pick up a rental car that morning.

The clerk who gave her the car had seemed to read her quite accurately, because he made a point to ask her, "You're not going to be driving to LA, are you? You know it's not safe there right now."

She had put on a fake smile, lied through her teeth about wanting to see a friend nearby who'd just had a baby, and hopped in the car to head straight for the disaster site. She'd stopped thinking of it as a city with a name, too.

After arriving at the border of the disaster site, Buffy had abandoned the car to continue on foot. There were teams of cops and fire fighters policing the borders, but she'd managed to slip by unnoticed without much effort on her part. For the past few hours she'd just been wandering through the city, keeping hidden but watching the rescue team putting out the fires and searching for survivors. She'd seen a couple of people being helped out of wreckages alive and given medical assistance, but she'd seen a far greater number of body bags.

She'd been uncertain of her direction for a long while, but she couldn't doubt the pull she felt when she'd found herself on the street where the Hyperion was located. Her pace had doubled as she walked towards it and only slowed again after she passed through the entrance.

Buffy moved further into the lobby, taking slow, hesitant steps and carefully laid her bag down on the floor. She was half irrationally afraid that what was left of the building would collapse in on her if she made any sudden movements, and half afraid to search too quickly for fear of what she might or might not find within the hotel.

She slowly advanced up the stairs, hesitating with each step. She became uncertain when she reached the top; her instincts that had been dictating her direction were now overwhelmed by her fear and the increasingly intense beating of her heart. She chose to go right, and walked along slowly. Very shortly she came across a door that was partially opened, and she heard faint noises on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and entered.

Spike was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room reading a book, his legs propped up on an ottoman. She didn't know whether to cringe at his injuries, or sigh with relief because they probably weren't as bad as they could have been. He was shirtless, and most of his chest and arms were covered with pretty severe-looking wounds, some of which were bandaged. Half of his face was damaged; one of his usually beautiful cheekbones had obviously been shattered.

He looked up as she approached, and she was disappointed to note that it took him until she was less than ten feet from him for him to become aware of her presence. "B-Buffy?" he choked out disbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to, um… I heard about what went on here. Actually," she shook her head, "I didn't hear what happened, just that… something… bad happened. And I've been worried. Freaking out, actually. What – are you - are you okay?"

He gave her a smile that was stronger than she thought he'd be capable of in his current condition. "I'll be all right, love. Hurts a bit, as you might have guessed, but it's nothing that'll kill me. It was quite a battle. We, uh, we fought in the alley just to the side of this building. Well, the side that isn't there anymore, that is. It got a bit beyond our control, I'm afraid, and soon enough it felt like it wasn't even our battle anymore. I've got the impression that most of the city's gone, is that right?"

Buffy nodded.

His face fell at that confirmation. "Right, then. Nice job we did there. In any case, once it was over, we hobbled on in here. I've been somewhat healing, but there wasn't… there aren't any blood supplies here, and I've-"

"I'll get you some," she reassured him without hesitation. She hesitated the moment after she said it though, wondering if she should offer him a bit of her own just to give him a bit more strength, but she decided against it. She realized it was wrong of her - after all she'd been through with him and all the good she'd seen him do - to not trust him with her blood, to not trust he'd only take what he needed. She knew that if Angel were sitting here lacking blood, she'd undoubtedly make the offer even now, maybe even demand he take it, but it somehow felt wrong to make the same offer to Spike. In any case, he looked like he was doing well enough to hold out until she could bring him supplies from elsewhere, which she would do as soon as she could.

She faltered before asking after Angel, realizing Spike might be insulted if she seemed more interested in leaving him to find Angel, but then accepted that she was worried enough to not care what Spike felt about it. "What happened to the others?" she asked, as diplomatically as she could.

"I haven't heard anything of Illyria, though I have no doubt that she survived. Last I saw, she was doing much better than any of the rest of us. I don't know what happened to Gunn, either. Hopefully – _hopefully_, he's being taken care of by the medics roaming around out there." He paused a short moment before adding, "Angel's four doors down the hall."

Buffy nodded unsteadily, pressing her hands together tightly. She started to excuse herself, "I'm just – I'm just going to check-"

"I understand," he cut her off, nodding.

"Thank you," she whispered. Before she moved away she stepped forward and leaned down to press a gently kiss to the top of his head.

As she reached the door, she gave him a meaningful look as she repeated, "Thank you."

She walked down the hall with a quick pace until she reached the door in question, and then she seemed to lose all nerve and stopped dead in her tracks. The door was closed and she pressed both hands against it, breathing deeply before resting her forehead against it as well.

"Get a grip, slayer," she whispered to herself harshly. "He probably already knows you're here and you're just going to make yourself look like the biggest idiot if you can't bring yourself to open this damn door."

She stepped back for a moment, and took another deep breath before reaching for the doorknob, where her hand hesitated again. She forced herself to turn the knob and push the door open. It didn't even occur to her to knock.

She stepped inside. Like Spike's room, the curtains were drawn because it was day, but Spike had had a few candles whereas Angel's room was completely dark.

"Angel?" she called into the darkness. There wasn't an answer, and she stood awkwardly near the door. After a moment of uncertainty, her eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, and she could see the basic layout of the room and vague outlines of furniture, including the bed on which she could somewhat make out an Angel-shaped lump.

She walked cautiously towards the bed until she was standing directly over him. She looked his body over appraisingly. He was on top of the covers, making her worry that pulling them aside had been too much of an effort for him in his condition. Like Spike, he was shirtless and had several wounds over his chest and arms, though most of his looked smaller and had therefore done a better job of closing up. He had several cuts and bruises on his face and a portion of his left ear was missing entirely. His right ankle was horribly purple and swollen, and his left hand looked unusable. He was sleeping and she could see his eyes twitching behind his eyelids; he was dreaming.

Buffy lowered herself slowly and gently to sit next to him, trying not to wake him. Her caution wasn't enough, however, because the moment she was seated, she saw him stirring and looked to his face to find his eyes blinking open before they rested on her face.

"Buffy," he greeted softly, his voice rough with sleep.

"Angel," she whispered back, touching a hand to his cheek. She suddenly felt unwanted tears building up.

They stayed like that for a moment, silent and drinking each other in after another too-long period apart. She then couldn't help herself and asked weakly, "Why didn't you call?"

He scrunched up his brow before attempting to answer, "The phones aren't working-"

"I mean before," she interrupted, clarifying. "Before you went into the biggest battle of your life. I could have helped. I could have brought a hundred slayers. More."

"Not your fight." His voice still sounded like it was a strain for him to use.

"It's always my fight," Buffy argued.

He shook his head. His voice grew stronger as he said, "No, it's not. It's always mine as much as it's always yours, and you sent me away from Sunnydale when you fought the First. You should know as well as I do, if not better - some of these things we have to do alone. If everyone in the battle was going to die, I wanted to go knowing you were still alive somewhere."

She let out an annoyed laugh. "You're stupid. And selfish." She leaned down to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, afraid that anything more would only hurt him. A tear dripped off her cheek onto his. It stung an open cut on his face, but he didn't show her a reaction. She sat back again. "I like to know you're alive somewhere too. It's a knowledge that helps me get through most days - a knowledge that I've been without since I heard about all this."

"I'm here," he said, cupping her cheek with his right hand and running his thumb over it to wipe away the remaining tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't call."

She was no longer trying to hold back the tears as she choked out, "I kept dreaming about you dying…"

"I didn't though. I hurt like hell," he smiled tenderly. "But I'm going to live – as long as I don't come across any other huge demon armies in the near future."

She was annoyed that he was playing off all of her worries and concerns so lightly. She got up and stepped away from the bed. Turning her back to him, she stopped and breathed a moment to calm down. She knew that if he was all right then that was all that mattered, but it took a lot for her to get over the way she'd been feeling since she'd heard vague references to "LA" and "tragedy" in a language she couldn't understand.

She walked over to the window, leaning towards it as if she was looking out even though the curtains were closed. She brushed a hand across her cheek, wiping away a lone remaining tear. She pushed aside what little frustration she still felt and asked, "How long do you think it'll take for you to fully heal?"

"Probably a long time. We don't know – I haven't exactly been to see a professional - but I'm not going to get any worse." She heard his voice, closer to her than it would have been from the bed. She thought to turn around and berate him for getting up in his condition, but she didn't trust herself to meet his eyes again now that she seemed to have gotten control of herself.

Angel was hobbling over to her as best he could, frustrated at how long it was taking him, and eventually came to stand right at her back. He softly, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her from behind. He pulled her back against his chest cautiously, trying to avoid agitating the scabs that had been healing there.

She wanted to pull away, but found herself surrendering to the feeling his touch brought her and instead leaned back into him carefully. She closed her eyes, soothed by the feeling of his arms around her again after so long, and the gentle, rhythmic pounding against her back that proved to her he was feeling something too. She suddenly opened her eyes again in surprise.

"What… what is that feeling?" she whispered wonderingly.

Angel reached past her right side, pulling open the curtains and allowing the daylight to spill into the room and over them. "You mean that feeling you get when you watch a sunset with someone you love?" he murmured back. "I was just wondering the same thing. Why don't we wait and see?"


End file.
